


Dream a little dream

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-05
Updated: 2008-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your fondest dream come to seeming reality.. there are always consequences.. please read the AN</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a little dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
> 
> AN: so, manny many thanks to the ladies who helped out with this bad idea that started back in April
> 
> the 'Idea': for some reason, I got it into my head to try to 'twist' John until he would take charge at home -wear the pants? ;)-.. rather than be the puppy that he *is*, in my mind. Its not that I don't like puppy, trust me, I do. I just got this silly idea and.. it wouldn't go away. Now congruently, Elizabeth also had to twist slightly, in the opposite direction, for the relationship to work...  
> so; &gt;b&gt;they are OOC.
> 
> and then there was also a bit of a thought of the Voyager ep 'Waking moments'.. and it turned into this
> 
> it was an experiment. I will not repeat it... but I hated having this sit there unfinished.. so here you go. torture on a plate ;)

He'd been walking through a corridor when Elizabeth had suddenly stepped around a corner and started stripping sexily in front of him. The sheer shock had kept him from reacting for whole seconds until she went to actually remove her now-undone shirt. A part of him had been all for finding a wall to lean on and enjoying the show, but deep down he'd known this wasn't 'right'...

  
But Elizabeth was so beautiful... No! They didn't have *this* relationship. He'd frowned, stepping forward to stop her with nascent worry; then reality had suddenly changed, as though a page had turned in a picture book.

...Elizabeth was gone. His team was around him, yelling at him to snap out of it as Ronon shook his shoulder. And John remembered. They'd just returned from exploring a new, no longer habited, planet and his team was heading to the cafeteria.

Even as he explained that he'd just been seeing things, Teyla suddenly froze; standing there, eyes staring vacantly into nothing. When Ronon shook her, she woke, mouth dropping open in shock.

All John said was "Visions?" When she nodded, they all changed direction for the infirmary, having to stop every couple of minutes to snap each other out of the spontaneous trances.

\-----------------------------------------

36 hours later, he'd been awake for a total of 45 hours and John's temper was holding by the thinnest thread. They'd discovered the hard way, as the disease spread throughout Atlantis, that being left in the trance for more than a few minutes meant people couldn't be snapped out anymore. And falling asleep put you in a coma. So no one was left alone and no one slept. The cafeteria was now a second infirmary and *it* was getting full; and sleep deprivation was going to kill the rest of them very soon.

That's if frustration didn't make them kill *themselves* first. Having your fondest fantasy appear in front of your eyes as your mind was made to accept it as real, then having to either wrench yourself away, or have someone do it for you... Over and over. He didn't blame the ones who had given up and allowed themselves to sink into their dreams. Not really.

He wasn't at all sure what it was that kept him resisting, kept him from simply believing when the visions started; maybe it was just too good for him to believe it was true, or maybe he really *didn't* want to be happy, as some damn shrink had once tried to tell him. One way or the other, he was one of the few who'd managed to pull out of the trance by himself, and then it got easier to break through the next time. Easier to remember that your own private paradise had been *created*.

Resist them though he did, the visions were forcing him to fully acknowledge hopes and wishes he'd made himself ignore for years. Every single apparition tested him, woke needs that made it that much harder the *next* time that what he wanted was handed right into his arms, sometimes literally...

The lack of typing sounds snapped his wandering attention. Thumping both Rodney and Zelenka on the back to wake them -again-, he hoped fiercely that they were about to be done with this. Carson had identified the airborne bacteria that was playing with the wiring of their visual cortexes, and now the two scientists just had to get Atlantis' air filters to weed it out. And then they'd all have to wait for their bodies to wear through the dose they'd already absorbed.

As the two men got back to work with grumbles, he returned to the uncomfortable stool in their science lab. In the next instant, the lab was gone; his memory of its very presence suppressed.

Instead he leaned on a balcony railing, ocean waves crashing below him; enjoying the peaceful night. And then Elizabeth came through the doors behind him. He turned his head to smile a welcome, her presence bringing him a soul-warmth he always wished he could find more reasons to seek out. Instead of coming to stand besides him, she stepped up, turning him with a hand on his unresisting shoulder. Enjoying the physical contact, he watched her, at once accepting the touch and waiting to hear what was up for her to be invading his space quite so much.

When her hand slid up to his neck though, alarm bells rang, acceptance of the situation losing strength, his hands rising to hold her away, focusing on her strange expression. No, this wasn't right, something was wrong. Elizabeth *didn't* look at him like a prize calf; wouldn't try to kiss him without a word. As he opened his mouth to challenge her, confused, he tried to think of what could be wrong; the worry sending adrenaline into his system. Elizabeth, what was wrong with...

An instant of thought flashed through his mind. Bacteria. Visions. His eyes widened; whatever was suppressing his memory vanished, along with the balcony.

Rodney looked up from his screen when John jumped up to pace, swearing viciously. It was a sight he'd gotten used to as the man acted as his trance-guard for hours on end. In most ways he envied him his ability to wake himself without help, but whenever he saw this, saw the pain and conflict from what he knew were his friend's own dreams... He had to wonder what it really said about him, his life, that seeing what he wanted... hurt him.

\-------------------------------------

It took another two hours for them to finish tinkering with Atlantis' environmental systems and have them start cleaning the air. Finally free from having to guard the working scientists, John made his way to the control room while they waited for the all-clear. Walking past the few technicians left at their posts, he saw Elizabeth, leaning on the wall outside her office, just shaking herself out of a trance with a growl. They hadn't talked about the fact that they were two of only five who could shakes themselves from these spells; hadn't talked about much of anything actually. No one was very talkative right now.

As she looked up and saw him, he heard her swear, "Damn it, not again!" Not bothering to comment on the temper they were all guilty of, he gave her the latest timeline from the scientists, trying to keep thoughts of his daydreams at bay with the real Elizabeth before him and his self-control so worn down. When he was done with his report, rather than stay close, which he would have a week ago, he offered to go check on the people under medical care.

Then, as he started to walk away, what she'd said clicked in and he froze, eyes widening, glad no one could see his face to know he wasn't simply in a trance. 'Again'. She'd just woken out of a trance, saw him and said 'again'. He didn't need Rodney's IQ to do the math; not even exhausted. Though no one freely discussed what they saw, Carson had gotten enough people to talk to *him* to confirm that everyone saw what they *wanted* most. And then his research had confirmed that some of the chemicals being triggered by the bacteria were those linked to 'good' feelings; good memories, pleasant daydreams, wishful thinking.

For a minute the desire to turn around and... *do* something was held back only by the knowledge that she would assume he was just another vision,  so he forced himself to continue on his original path. He knew the raw need coursing through him right now was at the very least severely affected by his over-exhaustion, but he nonetheless resolved to confront her *before* they got some sleep. They'd just spent two days managing to deny themselves what they wanted, even under the influence of a bug. What that said about their ability to hold back meant that if he let this pass, there was every chance they would *both* spend more years alone when they could have so much more.

And damn it, he *did* too want to be happy!

\------------------------------

Elizabeth was so tired she could barely navigate a straight line to her quarters. The air was clean, the last trance reported was an hour ago, the patients in the infirmary, *infirmaries*, were waking, one after the other, seemingly no worse for their extended naps. The wakers were taking over the watch, allowing all the exhausted to get to bed. Including Atlantis' leader, who was far too close to falling flat on her face.

"Elizabeth!"

She stopped, blinking when she realized she was at her door anyway. She wearily looked back at John, hurrying down the corridor toward her, as she waved the door open. Taking a breath to try to brace herself awake just one more time, she spoke tiredly, "John? Is something wrong?"

He hesitated, an odd intensity in the way he stood and watched her. Well, over and above the dark-rimmed, bloodshot eyes of someone who'd been up several times past his limit, that is. She nodded him into her quarters, so tired that her automatic -unstoppable- once-over of his body was far slower than usual. So much so that when he turned around after the door closed, he caught her at it.

Her eyes jerked up in momentary wariness when he stepped toward her, "No, not a vision Elizabeth." He continued forward, his movement pushing her back until her back was against the door, eyes wide in sleepy, unworried, surprise.  His voice was rusty, as tired as his oddly darkened eyes, "You said 'not again' when you saw me earlier." Eyes locked to hers, he caged her gently with his body, his forearms on the door, framing her head, his own head leaning in so there were only six inches between their faces, his voice raw with the still-powerful discovery, "You dreamt of *me*."

Elizabeth froze, unable to speak, feeling a fiery blush of embarrassment and sexual response, cover her cheeks as she recognized a hunter's hunger rather than the usual relaxed humour in his eyes, in the body slowly coming to rest on hers. Her hands rose hesitatingly; meant for his chest, to push him away; to reestablish their boundaries.  The pure dogged stubbornness that had kept her awake for the last two days continued to rule over any confused messages her body might care to give; especially in the face of the just-not-quite-familiarity of this man.  Known baundaries were safe and easy, figuring out the scope of changes when she was so exhausted...  But then he smiled and his expression shifted out of its odd mask, more recognizably *her* John -caring-, though his eyes still kept an unfamiliar mastery over her breath and attention.

"Do you want to know what *I* dreamt of?" His voice was very soft now and she suddenly understood; recognized the frustrated need in his tight body as twin to hers. And lost the willingness to deny herself.  Deny him.  She let her hands come to rest on his shoulders; lightly, her own sleep-dulled needs driving her to test the very unfamiliar waters with a careful touch. She saw his satisfied smile at her surrender; there was no humour in *this* John. Only man. All man. But though his position was dominant, she felt no threat; the expression behind his eyes was still steady and familiar, pulling her in just as surely as it had from the day they met. The next step they took was freely put in her hand; her decisions would be respected. The *man* was still her John. Was still her friend and the protector of Atlantis.

From the standpoint of a negotiator, she knew there was no turning the clocks back; saying 'no' wouldn't change the mutual knowledge between them now. The firm insistence implicit in his crowding body said he wanted her and knowing she wanted him in return apparently meant he wasn't going to continue keeping his feelings to himself; wanted her to hae the same knowledge of his feelings.

If it was 'no' today, she had an impression that his teasing flirting of their years together would become serious seduction attempts. She could only imagine how devastating John, unrestrained by his lack of confidence in her response, would be to her self-control.

And *why* did she have to control herself again? They were adults. He wanted her. She wanted him.  They were friends; and colleagues who trusted and *respected* each other... Why indeed?

\----------------------------

The stress of having been constantly on guard against the daydreams still had John wound with tension; his usually thick layer of calm worn right off, exposing the stubborn will underneath. He would respect Elizabeth until the day he died; but if she wanted him as much as he did her, he refused to continue to be a party to their remaining alone. They were stronger together; deserved, especially after all this time, all the hell they'd survived, to find respite in each other.

And he wanted her. At the same time as they'd stripped his calm, the last few days had also forced him to consciously acknowledge his own desires. It was a dangerous combination that could have left him a fractured mess if he'd had to return to their old status quo.

Instead, the last four hours had driven him half-mad, waiting while they mopped up the results of the infection and anticipating the moment when he could confront her about her unwitting admission. And now here they were.

Elizabeth pulled herself hesitantly closer to him, a tired smile making its appearance just before she pressed her lips to his. He grinned in triumph through her kiss, finally letting his body fully press hers into the door, his hips slotting into the cradle of hers, lips insistently opening hers. The dreams had woken such a need to know her, to have her; his mind wanted to strip her naked and make love to her, taste and arouse every inch of her...

But his body was resting on hers only half out of desire; the other half was simply for support. The pleasure from finally being so close to her, actually feeling her hands stroke his body, running out of air as he took advantage of her surrender to taste and claim her mouth as her body had once been made to do to his. The pleasure was fast becoming too much for both their exhausted bodies. When he felt her start to slump, he lifted his head, hands reaching jerkily to hold her hips steady. Her eyes were glazed as he leaned his forehead to hers, laughing softly, "I have *never* been so tired in my life."

Elizabeth smiled wanly, gripping her hands together behind his neck to help hold herself up. They needed to talk about this, but she could barely get one word out right now. "Bed."

His smile faded for a second, coming back softer as he straightened, kissing her eyes closed, "I'd carry you, but I don't trust my body right now."

She giggled, too tired to care that Elizabeth Weir should not be giggling. For that matter, she was letting her military commander take liberties... Oh well, why *not* behave like a schoolgirl at this point?

John slipped an arm round her waist, guiding her sleepwalking body slowly to the bed as she leaned on him. Wondering if she had meant her word as an invitation; fully Intending to take it as such.

She sat down on the mattress, blinking dazedly as he crouched in front of her. She looked like a sleepy child, confused and innocent; trusting him. This was better than his dreams; called up so many more feelings... his throat was tight and his eyes stung as the wasted years suddenly weighed on his worn out body.  Why did they wait so long to do this?  How much more could they have done *together*...

"John?" she whispered worriedly, covering the hand he'd laid on her knee with hers when he stayed unmoving too long.

He blinked, then smiled reassuringly and reached for her vest. He undressed her gently, shaking his head when she tried to argue. Clearing the emotions out of his throat enough to speak, "Shh," he kissed her forehead, "You're exhausted, let me help."

For the sake of his sanity and her modesty, he left her bra and underwear for her to choose to deal with, then tucked her into bed before stripping down to his boxers. As he stumbled more than once, she giggled again, watching him with a teasing leer from under the covers. Once he was done, he stood in front of her, hands on his hips, giving her a teasing glare, "Are you making fun of me, woman?"

Elizabeth snuggled down in the bed, grinning faintly as she deliberately looked his almost-naked body over with eyes she couldn't keep fully open anymore. Raising them back up to his, she brought a hand out of the covers, reaching out to him; inviting him.

He pulled those covers back, ignoring her grumble of complaint at the chill over her just-warming skin, sliding up to her and covering them both with the warm blanket. He effortlessly shifted her body so they were face to face, just far enough to look at each other comfortably; legs tangling shyly together.  Watching each other with uncertain wonder.

Elizabeth knew they needed to sleep. She was downright *shivering* with over-exhaustion; but she'd lived on adrenaline so long, it was taking forever for the last tendrils to dissipate. Probably not helped by the 'excitement' of having her fantasies discovered by their very interested protagonist. At least laying down left more of her waning energy for better uses than keeping her body standing...

As John rested a hand on her hip and the other weaselled its way between her cheek and pillow, she let hers come to rest on the hair-spattered wall of his chest. He smiled as she slid them up, reminded of having to pull away the last time she'd done it, in his vision. Feeling light pleasure curl up his spine at the bare-skinned touch. He leaned over to kiss the corner of her lip, then the soft skin in front of her ear, whispering invitingly, "Are you going to tell me what you dreamt?"

She smiled, her hands had come to rest just beneath his jaw and now applied pressure to pull him back, slowly laying her own line of kisses from his chin, along his jawbone, "Are you always going to insist on taking charge?"

Shivering as her trail of kisses found a sensitive spot behind his ear, John answered carefully, watching her expression with one eye, "Yeah, kinda. Probably. Do you mind?"

Elizabeth smiled, feeling him shiver again as she nibbled at his jaw, "You're not going to argue about command of Atlantis are you?"

He pulled back this time, cupping her face and answering very seriously, eye to eye, "No. Absolutely not. Atlantis is under *your* authority. I know you'll listen to me in military situations and that's all I need." When she nodded, he relaxed, sliding his hands down to her butt, teasingly growling into the side of her beck, "So long as I have a say, you are the mistress of Atlantis." his bit gently, smiling at her squeak, licking the invisible teeth marks. "Can I be the master of your body?"

Her breath caught at the hunger hiding in his tone; at the responding heat unfurling within her, "Oh yes."

Then her sudden yawn made him laugh, then kiss her gently when she slapped his shoulder in revenge.

Her head had come to rest against his chest and they were just holding each other loosely when he spoke again, "Love you, Elizabeth." As she raised her head and met his calm look, he wasn't sure what had made him drop it just like that. Maybe the simple affection between them right then. Or exhaustion. If he'd wanted an excuse, that one was a winner.

Her eyes burned, this time with tears as well as tiredness, pulling herself up to him for a tight hug.

"John?"  her voice was still slightly choked.

"Ummm," he breathed into her neck.

"Love you too."  His only response was a brief stutter in his breathing and a tightened hold.

They cuddled drowsily, kissing and touching; their increasing yawns keeping the passion between them to nothing more than a light simmer.

"John?"

"Umm?"

Elizabeth smiled at the purry rumble, wondering if he was already asleep. "Can you undo this thing?" She had time to yawn again before his eyes fluttered open enough for her to consider him awake and comprehending.

She rolled her sluggish body over, lifting her hair away from the clasp of her bra, looking at John over her shoulder. He took a second to respond, then grunted, shifting forward. He kissed her exposed nape and shoulder, making her smile with sleepy pleasure, then undid the little hooks carefully. Giving the reddened skin a rub and a kiss before sliding the straps to her shoulders and off as she rolled back into his arms.

Even half-asleep, his hands automatically cupped her breasts. And for a moment, the flames flickered up in him and he bent to kiss the slopes above his palms. But as he slid his hands to her hips, pulling her to cup him intimately, another yawn cracked his jaw, betraying him and pulling another giggle from his usually so-mature Elizabeth.

"Okay, I give up: sleep." he pulled her close, fixed the covers around them and closed his eyes.

\---------------------------------

John woke to pale sunlight filtered by dark hairs. He took a deep breath; a slow smile growing on his face as he remembered where he was. He shifted from his back to his side, moving slowly to avoid disturbing Elizabeth.

He brushed a hand across her forehead to gently move her hair out of the way, grinning at her grumble. Still asleep, her hand reached for him, pawing his chest as he lay unmoving, and then wrapping around the bicep of the arm between him and the bed.

Her eyes were still shadowed from their too-long time spent awake, caring for Atlantis and its people. He stroked his knuckles along her cheek, down the side of her neck, and then back again. Feeling sleep-warmed skin, the strong lifeblood of his leader; and the fragile bones of the woman he cherished.

She slept on through his caress, smiling at whatever she dreamt, her body moving as though to follow his touch. His eyes, no longer dazed with tiredness, no longer bound by their silent agreement to remain apart, followed the line traced by his hand. Finally straying beyond. To flesh both pale and rosy, skin he had touched briefly the night before.

Though he felt his body begin to stiffen, he kept his hand to its innocent path along her cheek; unwilling to touch further without Elizabeth's waking consent. Simply letting his eyes wander. Touch on too-visible ribs, on hips he remembered holding. The darkness of a small birthmark on the upper slope of her left butt cheek calling to him. The toned muscles that Phebus had put to much more violent use than his Elizabeth would ever willingly engage in. He silently swore again to stand between her and danger so long as he could. As she would allow. As their duty would allow.

"John," she whispered. Lovingly.

He lifted his eyes to hers, smiling happily, "I really did dream of you, you know."

Her hand lifted to his lips as her eyes brightened with that lively curiosity he knew so well. "Do you still want to know what *I* dreamt?"

He nibbled at the fingers stroking his lips absently, his hand now free to glide down to her thigh. Free to pull her leg over his hip, "Hell yes." As her hands slid into his hair, her whole body arching to conform to his, he brought his lips to her ear, whispering with intent, "Tell me. Tell me your fondest dreams, Elizabeth..."

\-------------------------------

John walked the corridors of Atlantis, glad his old knack for keeping his emotions hidden was holding up. Wondering how long it would take for his senses to get used to the change; get used to the knowledge that he didn't stand alone. That he was going to Elizabeth's quarters, not to hand over a report, but to stay the night. That he would fall asleep listening to her breathe; absolutely certain she was safe. That when the nightmares came, she would wake him before he was lost.

When they were apart, while he changed in his room or spent the day working, a part of his mind snapped back to the feeling of being alone. Walked the corridors and saw only another day to be lived; to make sure Elizabeth ate, was OK and slept. Another fight won. Another report written, another challenge to their survival discovered. He consciously knew that there was more now; more waiting for him. More in Elizabeth's eyes whenever she looked him.

But his reflexes hadn't changed yet.  After two weeks of going to sleep with Elizabeth in his arms every night that he'd been on Atlantis, he still reacted first as a man alone. Not that that was a bad thing; he trusted his instincts to protect Elizabeth and Atlantis irregardless of how his mind defined them.

Before he approached her door, he shook his head to get the maudlin thoughts out of it. He blamed it on being off-world for two nights; he'd had a hell of a time getting to sleep and had woken from nightmares too often to be rested. Thank God Elizabeth had come to his room after he'd gotten back.  Carson had escorted him to bed personally, and he hadn't dared get up and go to her quarters at that point; stupid fuss over a minor stab wound to the leg.

Even in his narrow bed, just holding her put him right into deep sleep. He'd been tempted not to wake her this morning, but they'd yet to come up with an idea for keeping the IOA from having a fit over them; so he woke her early enough for her to get back to her quarters unquestioned.

And now he was on his feet and where he belonged, checking the hallways with his swiped lifesigns detector before letting himself through her door.

She wasn't in the room when he walked in, but it was still home. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes automatically searched out where she was, not bothering with the detector. Bathroom; had to be.

He was smiling as he threw the machine on what had become *his* spot on the dresser. Emptying his pockets as he wondered what she was up to, he debated saying 'Honey, I'm home', just for the laughing glare he'd get. But he didn't need that; had better ways now to make her smile and play.

He grinned; it was better than sex even, this knowing that, just with him, she played. Teased, giggled; and touched him. His smile faded as his eyes closed. Lord how she touched him. He'd never felt so close to another human being before, never realized he enjoyed having so much human contact. Probably because he didn't, hadn't; felt hemmed and smothered when others did it.  But Elizabeth... Elizabeth's touch was comfort and strength; was like a part of his own soul.  The more she touched him, the stronger and the more whole he was.  More able to face the world; more able to open himself and *play* with her.. from the heart.

He heard music as he ambled toward the chair he usually threw his clothes on; [a simple drum beat](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab8wJeB_5rM). Even as he looked up, wondering which part of which world she'd picked *this* music up from, his eyes caught movement at the bathroom door.

He froze as he watched a grinning Elizabeth slowly dance toward him, wearing mere scraps of silk; almost a negligee, but much less civilized.  She moved to the slow drum: feet, then legs, then her whole body somehow weaving along.  Nothing sexy in the music itself... but the way she swayed, hips luring his mind, tempting his eyes, the look in *her* eyes as she watched him watching her... he slowly backed the rest of the way to the chair, sitting down awkwardly as he kept his eyes fixed on her rather than watch what he did.

So much better than that first vision he'd had; his imagination was no match to reality, let along to the fact that Elizabeth would willingly do this, for him.  And he could actually enjoy it! Life was *good*.

As the beat increased, she moved faster with it, whole body undulating to the rhythm now, making the sexual connotation of the dance crystal clear; making his pulse rise to follow, his body tingle with awareness. On the closing clash of cymbals, the silk was suddenly gone and a very naked Elizabeth stood just out of reach.  Before he got over his wide-eyed, heavy-breathing appreciation, another song started, a slow saxophone that went straight to his primitive backbrain as she used it to sway closer to him.

Then she leaned down and put her hands on top of his on the arms of the chair, holding him in place, then leaned down to bring her peaked nipples at the level of his lips; the scent of warm Elizabeth skin drugging him. She pulled away with a slow shake of her head when he opened his mouth automatically.  He whispered "Sorry", then kept his lips together as she stroked them.  Deciding to enjoy the gift, he let his eyes drink in the creamy, soft globes swaying before him, thinking of just how much he would enjoy covering them in kisses, tasting every single -familiar- freckle, licking until her every breath was a moan.

"Close your eyes, colonel."  He hadn't noticed her shifting until her breath filled his ear, making his whole body shudder, his eyes dropping shut convulsively.

"Good boy."

He grinned at the husky promise in her voice, his breath already rough; playful Elizabeth.. heaven!  He moaned as her lips toyed with his all-too-sensitive earlobe, every touch and breath affecting like ten with one of his senses out.  He was still listening to her whispering breath, his skin focused on her soft, teasing lips, when her knees came to rest along his and heat covered his crotch.  A slow heat that seeped through his pants as his hands tried to jerk up, still held down by her weight. He felt her hips sway on him, a gentle rub that would have had him on fire even without her lips still playing him.

"'Lizabeth." He groaned, his hip jerking, trying to increased the friction; unable to quite help himself from reaching for more pleasure. Her husky laugh as she raised her pelvis away from him made him moan in protest.

"Impatient.  Can't have that." She teased as she stroked him again, her lips followed his hairline to his temple; gentle kisses that competed with the rest of his body for attention, his mind lost in the sensory bliss.

His hands never moved, even when she released them and started undoing his shirt, still rubbing her -naked!- self on his cloth-covered cock, her kisses mapping his features with so much care.. slowly trailing to his neck and on up. He only knew he'd been physically released when the moist heat that had covered him shifted back along his thighs.  Nimble fingers undid his zipper as chill air covered his exposed chest, making him shiver where she'd left the dampness of kisses.

John fought the faint temptation to raise his hands or open his eyes, following her rules and waiting with panting breath for the next sensation.

"Lift," the whispered command came with her hands at his waist. Left him three-quarters naked, with heated hands tracing up his legs and butterfly kisses dropping along their path.

"Open your eyes."

Not wholly ready to give up touch's mastery over his senses, he merely slitted his eyes, catching the smile she was aiming at him before she licked her lips and slid them over his aroused cock. Her hands were ready to catch and hold down his hips as they jerked up. His eyes had slammed shut with a cry at the touch and flew back open as she lifted off again.  Cool air covered him as her eyes locked with his, then she brought her lips close again to suckle along the side.

She kept him on slow burn for endless minutes as the pressure inside him built. He finally couldn't take any more, knew he was getting too close. He reached for her hips, growling, "Inside you. Now."

She climbed on the chair and his hands let go of her hips, letting her set the pace. Feeling how wet she was as she slid onto him, seeing up close the feverish glint in her eyes and feeling triumphant glee at her response to him. As her pussy picked up the torture where her lips had left off, he brought his thumb between them and played with her clit insistently, desperately.  Watching her breasts sway as she rode him jerkily, trying to hold off until she came, becoming aware he wasn't going to make it-

The waves of pleasure broke over him, hard and fast, dragging him out of his mind with a shout, the tight convulsions of *her* body drawing out the pleasure, making his body jerk and moan as she moaned brokenly in his ear.

He wrapped his arms around her as she fell bonelessly on his chest, looking down at her with glazed eyes, "God that felt good," he panted.

"I aim to please," she grinned at him, equally breathless.

"Oh you do, you do," he said fervently.  Wondering how many others of his years of fantasies she'd be willing to make real... and lovingly remembering the details of what she'd said was *her* most repeated vision...

\---------------------------

Elizabeth walked into her quarters late in the evening, still thinking of the last report she'd read. It took a moment for her to even notice the lack of light, stilling in surprise that John wasn't there. She'd let him know she was going to be late.. had somehow expected he would already be home...

'Home', yes. They still kept their relationship secret, but she was beginning to think the rumours of them were so widespread and *accepted*.. that it might not be worth the effort.  The odd measuring look John had thrown her just before they went their own way after supper had made her wonder if he wasn't planning something like a quiet move while she worked.  But instead he wasn't here...

She was about to turn around and go look for him in his room when she felt movement behind her; then heard quiet music before she could begin to worry at the intruder.  Familiar hands come to rest on her shoulders, a shiver passing through her as always at their insistent strength. She recognized an old Joe Cocker song as she felt the body hugging her back start to move, slowly coaxing her to walk forward, hands reaching for the hem of her sweater and oh so slowly raising it.

..!  She hadn't thought he'd willingly do this.  The reality, knowing how much of his love it showed, was far more affecting than her dreams; the feel of John's naked body far more potent along hers than a mere figment of her imagination.

He managed to sway with the music, erotic friction, and she shuddered in hard arousal as his voice, deeper than usual, crooned with surprising skill into her ear, "I put a spell on you. Because. You're mine."

Her concentration had focused on the body that she could feel half-surrounding her; the darkness and sultry music making the rest of reality irrelevant as he slowly undressed her. Still crooning softly every few lines, his fingers teasing her skin as it was uncovered, guiding her arms so her hands met behind his head.

"Step out of them." She opened her eyes when he spoke, only then realizing she'd closed them at some point and seeing herself striped naked with her trousers on her feet. Her eyes widened to find herself in front of her stand mirror, John's darker arms making her pale skin stand out even more in the diffused light, the outline from his body framing her before the darkness of the rest of the room swallowed them both.  How had he guessed so closely...

Hypnotized by the dark eyes holding hers well and truly under a spell, she toed her shoes off and stepped out of the crumpled fabric, and then forward, hesitantly, feeling a frisson at the still slightly unfamiliar darkness in the man whose whole body was caressing hers as arousingly as his hands; as the lips he slowly trailed over her neck and shoulder.  No matter how close they'd gotten, these moments when he was so much more intense than the John she'd known for years still brought a shivery awareness to the surface.  Not unpleasant; distracting, or.. arousing maybe.

She gasped, jerked out of her thoughts as one of his hands came to rest in the curls between her thighs, fingers sliding slowly in. His eyes still blazed into hers, his lips tickling her ear again, voice slow and measured with the music, "Open your legs, let me in. Let me touch you; watch me touch you. That's it." 

Faintly amazed at his being so smoothly verbal, Elizabeth moved her legs apart, watching in the mirror as his shadowed, soldier's hand slowly fondled her, not even noticing at first the other set of fingers still caressing from her thigh to her breast, teasing and arousing her very skin, until a mere brush was enough to make her shudder.

John's hips tilted forward, forcing hers to do the same, allowing his fingers to part her, finding the wetness hiding between her folds with a pleased growl.  Licking at the joint between her neck and shoulder as he both watched and felt his finger gliding on swollen flesh, he throbbed with the need to slide a different part of his anatomy into her aroused body. 

He stroked the sensitive skin, teasing, pleasuring, never quite touching the little nub she kept trying to twitch to where he would reach it. Keeping her legs spread with his knees when she twisted in his hold, moaning. Trying to control his breathing and remember to talk..  "Watch. Watch us, so beautiful.  My alabaster goddess."  Feeling the shiver that went through her and the clench of her sex was a surprise; if she really liked listening to him *that* much.. it wasn't so bad, saying these things to Elizabeth... Especially with his body so focused on her.

With a last circle of her flexing passage, he stopped teasing, bringing his finger to her clit; deliberately remembering exactly how she'd shown him she loved to be touched. He could feel her hands gripping his hair tightly, gave her breast and nipple increasingly hard squeezes with his other hand, repeating for her to watch as her eyes kept closing.

Shuddering himself with the cries she made, watching avidly as the lips he played within started to flutter, the body in his arms arching out as she quaked, moaning his name sharply. He forced his fingers to slow their teasing, the surge of dampness covering his hand almost making him give in and *take*, his hips jerking against her ass; give her what *she* wanted.

Just a little longer, he could hold out a little longer.

"John," her voice was a breathy plea, her glazed eyes watching him in the mirror, lips wet from being bitten.

"Ummmm," he grinned at her, his voice as dark as his eyes, nerve-shiveringly raspy, "I rather like you like this. You are fit for a bowsprit; Aphrodite in ecstasy." He slid his hands from her mound, up each of her sides, slowly, humming with the music that must be on repeat, "Watch me" he demanded again as her eyes tried to slide shut to focus more on the feel, the sound of him...

When she obeyed, he continued the glide right over her breasts, ending with his fingers, coated in her juices, gently touching the middle of her bottom lip.

Responding to the silent demand, she opened her mouth, curling her tongue out to wrap around one and guide it in, licking and suckling as slowly as he moved behind her. Smiling faintly when it was his turn to narrow his eyes, feeling his hips grind his stiff cock into her. Repeating the process with the other finger until they were both clean, the sound of his disturbed breathing as arousing as the touch of his body.

John slid one hand back down to cup her breast and toy gently with the hard nipple, the other stayed on her jaw, turning her head so he could kiss her; deep and slow and with a nightfull of sensual promise. His hand gave up its palmful of flesh and slid back down to that nest of heat, once again parting the folds, moaning himself as he felt all the wetness there. Her head snapped back with a cry as he brushed her clit, feeling it throb before he moved on, just holding her open for a moment as she panted.

"So beautiful, so swollen and wet, want to kneel before you, drink from you. Eat you up." He smiled, feeling her twitch under his hand, getting drunk on the power to please her, whispering more into her ear, "And you want me to, I can feel you throbbing in my hand. You want my tongue to lick you dry, my lips to suckle you until you give me more to drink; until you come, right into my mouth. And I won't stop, I'll suckle you right through the climax, nibble and tongue you until you can't tell the end of the pleasure from the start."

When he felt her starting to shake, close to coming again, he pulled both his hands to her hips and shifted her up until his cock sprang free between them, one hand pressing on her mound to reach below and slide himself into the dripping heat of her folds. Finding where he belonged and bringing her back down, listening to the changing sound of her moan to catch just the right spot to stop.

There was no movement possible this way, but one hand shifted so his fingers went back to teasing her, slow so she didn't come too quickly. "So hot and tight. Can feel you gripping me every time I move my finger. Watch Elizabeth. I can you see you twitching.. oh yes, just like that, want to feel that sweet fluttering all around me, hear you call my name." He felt her start to come apart, watching in the mirror as she arched, taking more of him, pulsing tight and hard and surprising him by dragging him along with her into ecstasy.

Coming down from the pleasure, the sight in the mirror resolved itself in her mind, feeling John's shaking body and the desperate grip on her hips puling her against him, a finger still pressed to her nub and making her jerk with every uncontrolled twitch he made. His head was back, neck muscles standing out, the warm liquid between her legs not just hers anymore.

It was a precarious position, but she let herself rest on him nonetheless. Every plane of his body was hard, power and skill; strength to hold her, skill to keep them both up. She knew she was safe; body and soul.  Safe and loved.

"Mine."

She opened her eyes at the breathless, fiercely spoken word, captured by his now aware gaze. "Yours." she agreed contentedly.

Of these things were dreams made.

**Author's Note:**

> In Greek mythology, Aphrodite is the goddess of love, beauty and sexual rapture. I was going to track down an Irish goddess of beauty in honour of JF (whom I am assuming is of Irish descent from the name Flanigan **on which assumption Fitzroy has graciously corrected me... I guess I should just delete this note.. but you know what, I like leaving traces of my weird thought patterns around.. so it stays**).. but then no one but me would know what I meant and none of the names rang well to my ear so.. sigh, and Aphrodite is totally appropriate; so there.


End file.
